


Our Last Hope

by RazeHell



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazeHell/pseuds/RazeHell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mankind is seconds away from facing their greatest threat yet. Is their last hope really some kid from the slums?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay, so I'm not entirely sure what to say, other than I really hope people like this. It's very different from anything I've ever written and is definitely not what it seems at first glance (I don't want to give too much away). I didn't tag very many characters, although pretty much the entire main cast will be present, if not more. I'll be making a blog explicitly for this fic soon on tumblr, where you can catch news about updates and other such things. I'll also be more than willing to accept questions about the work over there, as well! The tumblr name/link will be posted with the next chapter.

Dirt and grime, dust and filth. Such covered every inch of that part of the city, as it did in other parts like it. Not that it was entirely unexpected; the poor had very little means of keeping their streets tidy, especially when they couldn’t always afford housing, or even regular meals.

Armin Arlert, however, found himself lucky for the sole reason that he had a way to keep a roof over his head. The building he lived in was abandoned, which meant squatters often snuck their way in, or at least tried to. However, he had two very fierce friends that were hellbent on keeping their ‘home’ to themselves. Mikasa Ackerman, a woman of great strength and integrity, with the fighting capabilities that rivaled those in the country’s elite military, and Eren Yaeger, a boy with such determination and fire in his soul that nothing that would knock him down could keep him that way. For one reason or another, they had both grown attached to the small blond, and put it upon themselves to keep him happy, safe, and in good health to the best of their abilities, no matter what.

Just then, Armin was attempting to clean what they owned, having only water at his disposal, with nothing to actually disinfect. No soap, no floor cleaners, absolutely nothing. However, he still counted himself lucky for the fact they lived close to the river that cut through their entire city, right down the middle. Crystal clear waters (as it was law, and dumping anything into the river, even used water, was illegal) that were regularly tested to make sure it was of the highest quality were just a few blocks away from his home, ensuring that he would, at least, never die of thirst. On days that the three were up to it, they could even manage a poor-quality bath, at least scrubbing away a few layers of grime, with determination.

The boy pulled the old, worn carpet, filled with holes, down the stairs and out of the building, to a makeshift clothes line, throwing it over and watching the line sag until the heavy fabric almost touched the ground. At one time, surely it had been a grand, beautiful work of art, but years of abuse and weathering had turned it into a dull, off-red scrap of its former self. Rolling his shoulders, he brought up a bit of twisted wire, proceeding to beat the dust out of the floor covering.

“Armin! What are you doing?”

Glancing over, crystal blue eyes spied one member of his family, Eren. All tanned skin, chestnut hair, and bright teal eyes, the elder teen was quite the looker, and probably would have looked even better, if not for the dirt and grime covering every last inch of him. Armin smiled widely, shrugging his shoulders as he waved some dust from his face. “I figured it could use a good cleaning.”

“What’s the point?” Eren asked with a frown, nearing the younger as he placed his hands on his hips. “It’s just going to get dirty all over again. All your effort will be wasted!”

“Eren, you  _do_ know that people who live in better places regularly clean their houses, right?” the blond asked, raising a thick brow as if he was judging the other’s intelligence. “Just like how they regularly bathe almost every day.”

“Pointless,” the brunet huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, brow furrowed as if he was really trying to figure out why anyone would want to do something so time consuming so frequently, especially if they would just have to up and do it all over again. “C’mon; I’ll help you drag that old thing back inside.”

“Not until I’m done.” Armin bent over, picking up a second wire beater that he’d prepared beforehand. “You can help me, and it’ll get done much faster,” he added with a small smile, knowing that if he looked innocent and helpless enough, there was nothing that the other could do but whatever the blond asked. Yes, it was sort of mean to manipulate his long time friend in such a way, but it was harmless. At least, he _assumed_ it was harmless.

Eren stared at the younger for a long moment before letting out a frustrated groan, hanging his head. “Dammit,” he cursed, lightly. “When you make those big ol’ eyes like that, I can’t say no!” He snatched the wire contraption out of Armin’s hand, moving to the opposite side of the carpet, beating away at it ferociously.

Armin kept a laugh from bubbling up as he continued on, shaking his head. He noticed a few people glancing at them in confusing as they made their way down the street, but what did he care?

The lamplight made everything in that part of the city even more drab and depressing. Then again, it may have hid more filth that the sunlight would have highlighted. Where they lived was, simply, the slums of the capital city, Sina, which was surrounded entirely by a very high wall. Some slum houses were built right up against the wall, everything packed tightly together to accommodate the inconceivable number of those who could hardly make ends meet. With all of the abandoned buildings and whatnot reaching up as high as the eye could see, the sky was entirely blocked out. Perhaps it would have been visible, somewhat, if not for the wall. However, because of such, that section was forever in a state of darkness, an eternal night.

Not that Armin minded much. He was just happy enough to be alive, and to live with those he cared so dearly for. If he had the opportunity to leave, he would only take it if Eren and Mikasa could join him. If not, then he would have happily turned down the invitation. Besides, what more could he have ever needed? Sure, things were often quite hard, and winters were never fun, but they always pulled through. They needed help from no one, and that was sweeter than any candy on the planet.

“Eren. Armin.”

Both looked up as their names were called, Armin smiling widely as he spied the third member of their family, Mikasa. Like usual, she wore a dark cloth around her unseeing eyes, fingering the worn scarf around her neck. Her hair fell in pin-straight, raven colored curtains around her slim yet curved face. Unlike any other blind person the blond had ever come across, the black haired woman didn’t need a cane or an assistant to get around; she listened to the sounds around her, much like a bat or a dolphin, which was astonishing to the young blond. Many people often mistook her for having perfect sight, and perhaps she did, just in a different and misunderstood sense, for surely Mikasa was anything _but_ handicapped.

The boy almost pursed his lips as he remembered just _how_ she’d lost her sight; a blow to the face by a member of the Military Police, after she tried to run after her wrongly accused parents. Like any child, she tried to protect them from harm, and had attempted to stop the execution. The whole ordeal had been sketchy to begin with, as there were no real concrete charges against either of them, but by the time a lawyer had noticed the folly, it was far, far too late for anything to have been done. Blood had already been spilled, and heads had rolled to the music of high-pitched wails.

“What’s up?” Eren asked, the first to notice something wrong about the girl’s expression, her brow furrowed just slightly. “Mikasa?”

“I overheard some people talking; they’re planning on starting a revolt,” Mikasa muttered into her scarf as she stepped into their small yard (Eren built a gate for their home after Armin had talked about having always wanted a white picket fence and a small front yard). “It’s the same men as always, that spend all their time at the bar. Except, now they’ve got some others to back them up.”

“What do you mean? No one ever takes those guys seriously!” Eren exclaimed, setting the wire he’d been whacking the carpet with down, leaning it against the brick fence. “Anyone who would listen to them are out of their minds!”

“I don’t know what happened before I got there, but I heard a large crowd cheering to everything they were saying,” the raven continued, her lips and cheeks pale. “If they start something, everyone here is going to be blamed; they won’t spare anyone...”

Both with dark hair went still and silent, and a pair of teal eyes glanced in Armin’s direction. The blond stiffened; of course they would both think of him. He’d never been the type to have the strength to defend himself, and if the Military Police were out for blood, then his would have surely been spilt in their wake.

“Maybe we should make ourselves scarce for a while,” Eren muttered, Mikasa nodding in silent agreement. He couldn’t risk Armin getting hurt, not even in the slightest. Not after everything they’d been through together. The brunet had sworn on the younger’s parents’ graves that he would do all in his power to keep the blond from joining them in a shallow grave.

“H-Hey, hey, why are you guys getting so worried?” Armin asked, taking a step forward, holding up his hands, drawing their attention to himself. “Look, this isn’t the first time a bunch of drunk people started hollering about stuff. But everyone gives up those thoughts once they sober up; no one is going to go along with those guys’ plan. Remember when they said they were going to raid the open market? Everyone was all ready to join them, until the next morning when all the alcohol was out of their systems. So there’s nothing to worry about. Mikasa, no offense, but you have a slight tendency to overreact, sometimes. I’m sure everything will be okay.”

After a tense moment, Mikasa sighed, her shoulders relaxing as her hand fell from her scarf, a good sign. “I suppose you’re right,” she conceded, tucking a lock of onyx behind her ear. “I just don’t like the thought of provoking the MP... Either way, you’re right; once everyone’s had a good night’s sleep, they’ll come to their senses.”

“Ahaha... What a way to freak me out, Mik,” Eren teased, shaking his head before stretching and moving to pull down the carpet. His face still looked a little on the pale side, and his movements weren’t entirely steady, but he was slowly coming down from the rush of adrenaline that had rocketed through his veins. “C’mon. It’s getting close to dinner time.”

“Ah! I _knew_ I forgot something!” Armin exclaimed, pulling on his own cheeks as a weird form of self-punishment. “I didn’t find anything for dinner! You guys stay here; I’ll run to the river and catch some fish. I promise I’ll be back soon!” he cried, taking off at a run before either could protest, though he did hear both of them call after him, followed by a short curse by Eren.

The streets weren’t as crowded as the blond expected them to be, but perhaps everyone was beginning to return home for the night. Those left without a roof over their heads lined the streets, however, a few begging for anything, even a scrap of food. Their crumpled and humped appearances likened them to trashbags, and those poor people were often mistaken as such. While Armin felt some pity for them, he never did much to help them. After all, he had about as little as they did, but he never gave up; instead of sitting and wasting away, he pushed himself each day to find at least one thing to keep him moving. Fishing, cleaning, gardening, whatever he could do with his own two hands. After all, civilization didn’t begin with money, so it didn’t need money to continue, either.

The riverside was oddly deserted as he came upon it. Usually there were at least four or five people fishing at all times; perhaps they were the ones at the bar, causing the ruckus that had scared Mikasa. Either way, the blond found a low hanging branch on one of the long-since dead trees, broke it off, and got to work, sitting on the ground and flicking out his small pocket knife. He never wanted the thing, but Eren made him promise to keep it on him at all times. In a pinch, it definitely could have been used as a weapon, and an effective one at that.

Once chipping down one end into a dangerous looking spike, Armin turned to his second task; spearing whatever fish he could get in the river. He removed his shoes and socks, setting them on the bank and rolling up his pants before wading out into the chilly waters, ever amazed (as he always was) that he could see all the way down to the bottom of the riverbed without any trouble whatsoever, as if looking through a pane of glass.

“They’re saying it’s the start of a civil war, you know. They expect every able bodied person to help.”

“Don’t they realize they’re just going to get stomped into the dirt by the MP?”

Unable to help but eavesdrop, Armin glanced to dry ground as soft voices danced across the breeze to his ears, though he attempted to look preoccupied with his work. A civil war? Wait, they weren’t talking about the rowdy drunks, were they? He almost didn’t notice when he speared a good sized fish.

“One of them is saying he has access to firearms,” the smaller woman continued, having been the one to mention the civil war. “That he was some hotshot in the military not too long ago and was only here because he lost all his money to gambling. Apparently, he still has some connections in the MP; people who aren’t happy about the state of things. He’s saying that there are people in the upper parts that aren’t in the least bit okay with the slums; they think the government should help us poor folks out.”

“Bullshit,” the other female scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “No one in the inner city gives a damn about us, and neither do the three kings. We’re the cancer of society that they pretend doesn’t exist. _Every_ city has a slum section; it’s nothing knew. Pitiable, but definitely not worth fixing.”

“I’m just telling you what I heard,” the first replied with a pout, pretty blond hair falling over her shoulders like a cascade of gold. She sat in an old rickety wheelchair, the axles creaking and shrieking with each revolution of the wheels. The other woman, with dark brown hair tied at the nape of her neck, pushed the first around with ease, even over uneven ground. “It’s hell down there right now; everyone is getting all fired up over this. It’s _scary_.”

“It’s a bunch of overzealous drunks, that’s what,” the brunette corrected with a harsh roll of her thin slitted eyes. “Listen to me; _nothing_ is going to happen, other than all those idiots waking up in the morning with one hell of a headache. Everything is going to go back to normal and no one will speak a whisper about it tomorrow.”

“If you say so,” the blonde girl sighed, seeming resigned to the other’s words. “I just hope you’re right.”

“Of _course_ I’m right. When am I not?”

“Most of the time.”

“Hey!”

Armin frowned as he stood upright, watching as the women turned a corner, out of his sight. He waded back over to the bank, tossing down the last fish he’d caught, nine in total (because Mikasa and Eren tended to eat a lot). It didn’t sit right with him, their words; it was one thing for Mikasa to get overly worried over something like that, but a complete stranger worrying about the same? Not many people cared about what happened around them in the slums. Apparently, the whole thing was the talk of the area.

Was everything really going to be okay?

\---

The morning broke with shouts, cheers, and gunshots.

With the first boom, Armin’s eyes snapped open as he sat bolt-upright in bed, heart thundering in his chest before he clambered off of the old, bumpy mattress, dressed in only an oversized shirt he’d snagged from Eren. Confused and reeling, he flung open the old, milky window, flinching as wood screeched against wood before hanging out of it, glancing up and down the street.

The road was full of people, men and women alike, some with makeshift weapons like knives taped to the ends of sticks, metal pipes and the like, others with actual firearms. A group of men stood at the head of the group, looking as if they were dressed for war; it took the blond a few minutes to recognize the group as the usual loudmouth drunks that literally spent nights at the bar. Now, though, their eyes were wide and white, no hint of drunken bloodshot to be seen. One of them was shouting to the parade, preaching things like they would take whatever they wanted; they would bring down the government that had forsaken them.

“Armin!” Eren cried as he threw open the boy’s door, clad in only an old pair of flannel pants. He ran to the boy, pulling him away from the window and slamming it shut with a loud snap. The brunet turned to the blond, taking the younger by his shoulders. “Stay away from the windows, understand?” he asked, frantically, as if speaking to a child. “The MP will be here any second, once they catch wind of all the chaos. Mikasa’s trying to break into the basement right now; get dressed. Understand?”

“R-Right...” Though slightly insulted that he was being spoken to as such, Armin did as told, picking the only clothes he owned off of a half-rotten chair and quickly changing, glancing over at his frantic friend. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit in the basement and wait for all of this to blow over,” Eren replied, sternly, cutting a hand through greasy hair. “Not that I wouldn’t love to knock the MP down a peg or two, but  I’m not dumb enough to get caught in all that, and I’m not about to let you get swept up with them.”

Ignoring the fluttering in his chest, Armin stepped passed Eren as he left his room, with the intent to descend to the basement door. It had been stuck fast for years, and they’d never cared enough to try and get into it, but now he could hear a heavy, rhythmic thumping; no doubt Mikasa was doing everything she could think of to knock the door from its hinges, if need be.

Just as the blond made it to the bottom of the steps, there came a wild drumming against their front door, before the bit of termite infested wood was knocked in, a group of men and women invading. “Where are Eren and Mikasa?!” a man cried, taking Armin by the arm, harshly.

“L-Let go!” the blond cried in panic and mild pain, but just as the words fell from his lips, he was being pulled back, away from the offending man, able to _feel_ the connection of fist and face as Eren slammed his hand against the unnamed man’s cheek. The younger felt relief wash over him as he was pressed to the elder’s chest, swallowing thickly as he stared at the strangers.

“Who the hell are you?” Eren hissed, not even glancing over when Mikasa joined them, her shoulders stiff and her stance that of a spring about to pop.

“Come!” one of the others exclaimed as the injured man fumbled around, holding his face. Served him right. The one who spoke was a woman, her eyes hard with a glare. “No one is getting out of their duty to help. That includes you three.” She glanced at Armin and scoffed. “Well, at least two of you,” she amended.

“What the hell are you talking about?” the brunet snapped, holding Armin tighter to him. “You expect me to fight for you? I want nothing to do with this! You all lost your damn minds!”

“We don’t have time to argue! Let’s go!” another cried, more people flooding into their little home; apparently, the group had come prepared, expecting a refusal. As much confidence as Armin had in his friends, he knew there was no way they could beat off that many people. A drip of cold sweat snaked down his spine as they were slowly surrounded.

The invading crowd surged, quite suddenly, trapping them in the middle of it all. Like fish caught in a brutal current of a fast-flowing river, the three were swept out of the old building and into the streets, no matter how many people Eren punched and bit, or how many Mikasa beat with all her might. Numbers prevailed.

Armin kept his grip tight on Eren, feeling suffocated and light headed; sweat and dirt filled his nose, the cries of thousands of people deafening him. He’d lost sight of Mikasa in the sea of multicolored heads, knowing that crying out for her would have been useless, as his voice would have been drowned out. The blond was only able to be grateful for the iron grip the brunet had on him, though he could already feel bruises blooming where fingertips dug into his skin.

The parade marched on and on, seemingly endlessly, weaving its way through the dark and dim streets, people shouting in chorus all the while. Armin started to fear they’d reach a nice neighborhood at the rate they were going, dragging innocent civilians into what would no doubt be a rain of blood. When he heard the familiar sirens and whistles of the Military Police, however, a sort of relief washed over him, giving birth to a new set of fears shortly after. Now, the problem was getting out of the throng of people, and away from hands and weapons turned against _them_.

“Cease and desist!” the recorded voice droned over and over from small speakers that hovered over the crowd like a flock of birds. Whatever kept them afloat was unseen, though they emanated a soft whirring sound, indicating that there were hidden propellers _somewhere_. “Use of force against individuals who do not cooperate is permitted! Use of force against individuals who do not cooperate is permitted! Such force may be deadly!”

“Eren, we need to get _out_ of here!” the blond cried, as loudly as he could over all the noise, as his eyes were drawn overhead. Pods, all marked with the symbol of the Military Police, descended from places unseen, opening up and spilling the soldiers out onto the ground, like living waterfalls. Each military personnel was clad in a crisp brown and white uniform, emerald unicorns adorning their shoulders, backs, and chests. In their hands, the latest in weapon technology, specifically for suppressing riots. None of it looked pleasant, and all of it seemed like it could inflict a great amount of pain in anyone unfortunate to be hit.

“Yeah, I _know_ that,” Eren bit back, grunting as he was pushed further forward. The people were screaming louder and louder, cursing at the soldiers and raising their weapons against them. Already, those deemed dangerous were being gunned down, a different set of cries hitting the air with sprays of crimson. “Shit, where the hell did Mikasa go? Mikasa! She won’t be able to get out of this kind of crowd by herself!”

“Stop her! That bitch just took down three of our men!”

Both Eren and Armin paused, exchanging a look before nodding in agreement. That _had_ to have been Mikasa! Clinging to one another tighter, they pushed as hard as they could against the crowd, trying to get to the outer edges of it as fast as possible. A couple of rioters screamed at them, and something whacked the blond upside the head hard enough to leave him reeling, but eventually, they made it to the edge, stumbling out of the mass of hatred and rage.

“Over there!” the younger of the two exclaimed, pointing to a group of men chasing after a very agile Mikasa, who was skirting the crowd, calling out two names, repetitively.

A sudden addition to the military police, a woman fell from the skies, having jumped from a pod, landing right on top of Mikasa and dragging her down to the ground, into a muffled scuffle. Eren cried out, wordlessly, letting go of Armin as he charged forward. “Get off of her!” he shouted, getting ready to all but dive upon the female soldier, until someone else got in the way.

“Eren! Mikasa!” Armin cried, watching as the brunet slammed his fist against the personnel’s face, soon jumping out of the way as a foot was sent flying in the elder’s direction. The blond flinched, having expected to watch the other get knocked over, hesitating a second before trying to run over. Perhaps if he managed a few words with the military police, if he just explained that they wanted no part of the riot and were just dragged into it, they’d be set free! “Please, stop! Please-!”

A startled cry pulled itself from the blond’s throat, however, as his head was yanked back, a hand buried deep within flaxen locks. “Oh, no, I’m not letting you help them!” the person holding him exclaimed, using his other hand to lock Armin’s wrists behind his back, bending the boy forward into a vulnerable and easily controlled position. He didn’t stop there, however, soon pressing the boy’s face into the dirt, a knee jabbing into the teen’s back to keep him down, eliciting another pained cry from Armin.

The second wail definitely caught Eren’s attention, his head whipping around, pupils dilating as he spied the boy being manhandled. No longer concerned about Mikasa (as she sent the person on her all but flying away), he backtracked, racing to the defenseless blond as he pulled a knife from his belt.

The officer atop Armin glanced up in time to register what was happening. He pulled a gun from his thigh, taking aim. “Freeze, or I’ll shoot!” he warned, giving Eren little time to hear the warning before sending a bullet whizzing through the air.

Armin watched in absolute horror as the small, round bit of metal embedded itself deep within Eren’s shoulder, the brunet choking on a cry as he stumbled, blood spattering on the ground. “Eren!” he cried, struggling to push himself up, heart like a humming bird’s racing wings in his chest. “ _Eren_!”

Eren staggered, sucking in a deep breath of stale, sweat soaked air, his grip tightening on his knife as he pressed a hand over his bleeding shoulder. The pain was hot, shooting down his arm like blades having come alive beneath his skin. But, there was no way he could let that stop him, at least, not for long. Hazy teal eyes came to rest upon that disheveled, frantic form pressed into the ground once again, pulling forth a rising wave of anger within him, numbing the brunet to his shoulder’s screams. He’d sworn to do anything in his power to protect Armin, no matter what, even at the cost of his own life. The brunet would be damned if he was going to break that promise now.

With a new surge of adrenaline, Eren ran forward with a cry, startling the officer. “H-He took that bullet like it was nothing!” the man gasped, wrenching Armin from the ground as he stumbled backwards, holding the blond to his chest. He glanced down at his hostage for half a second before turning cold eyes back to Eren, jamming the muzzle of his gun against a crown of gold. A smirk stretched his lips as the brunet froze in place. “Aaah, there we go, that’s a good boy,” he hummed, raising his nose in the air. “Can’t do much now, can you?”

Eren grit his teeth together, his grip on the knife so tight, the wood handle creaked in protest under the pressure, his knuckles turning bone-white, veins swollen with anger trailing hot tendrils down his arms. “Let him go,” he growled, eyes slitted with a deep glare, looking positively murderous, words heavy as stones. “ _Now_.”

“Eren!” Mikasa gasped, stumbling to the brunet’s side, her breathing heavy. Her cheek was split open, blood dripping slowly from the wound, as soldiers behind them groaned and cried out in pain. “What’s going on? Why did you stop?”

“He’s got a gun to Armin’s head,” the elder muttered, darkly.

“He _what_?”

“Unless you want me to blow open his pretty little head, then both of you are going to stand down and give yourselves up. Understand?” the soldier instructed, his voice haughty and prideful now that he had the upperhand. “Well?”

Both brunets hesitated, their stances stiff and unsure. Eren felt his throat go dry; he could hear his own breathing, like the whoosh of heavy winds during a storm. What could he have done? If he charged, Armin was as good as dead, and it wasn’t like Mikasa could launch a sneak attack. It was likely that if she moved from her spot, the officer would have blown off Armin’s head, as well. Slowly, he straightened his back, arms falling to his sides. “Will you let him go?”

“What?” the military man frowned, cocking his head to the side, slightly.

“If I give myself up, will you let him go?” Eren repeated, being more specific this time, his tone notedly gruff. “Look, he can’t fight. He’s just a kid; he poses no threat to you, or anyone else. Let him go, and I’ll hand myself over, quietly.”

“What about you?” the soldier prompted, gaze turning to the weary woman.

Mikasa grit her teeth before letting out a low sigh. “I will, as well,” she muttered, softly, the tightness leaving her shoulders. Wherever Eren went, she would follow, no matter what. Besides, if Armin died because of her, her whole world would have collapsed. She couldn’t even imagine a life without that loving, sparkling blond in it, yelling at her when she wasn’t careful and praising her for the smallest of things. To rob such kindness, such wonder, from the world would have been a crime punishable by death. “ _Only_ if he goes free, unharmed.”

“You _can’t_!” Armin cried, blue eyes burning. What were they saying? How could they have given up so easily? Why would they give up their lives, their everything, for just him? Some useless kid who couldn’t even live in a harsh world by himself. “Mikasa! _Eren_! You can’t do this; don’t do it! _Please_!”

“It’s alright, Arm,” Eren called, softly, a weary smile pulling at his lips as he dropped his knife to the ground with a dull thud.

“No it’s not! How can you _say_ that?!” the blond cried, desperately. “Please! Don’t do it; they’ll _kill_ you! How am I supposed to live without you? _Please_!” A world without Eren, without Mikasa, was scarier than anything, even death itself. Living alone, without the people he cherished most, smiling at him, laughing with him, crying with him... Never seeing their faces again, never hearing their voices again... All of it was a nightmare; a hell born from the blond’s deepest, innermost fears.

“You’re smart, Armin,” Mikasa called with a small, rare smile, fidgeting with the end of her scarf, worrying the fringed fabric. “You’ll figure out a way.”

“I _won’t_!” Armin all but screamed, vision blurring and swirling as his eyes filled with tears, burning the crystalline orbs. “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! _Please_!” He began to panic even more as a few of the soldiers that Mikasa downed slowly got to their feet, understanding the situation and preparing to apprehend the two. Desperately, he fought against the grip that stuck him to the officer’s side, only earning himself more bruises as the man’s hold tightened, to keep him in place.

“I’m sorry, Armin,” Eren all but whispered, his smile falling away as bits of him broke and died off. The face before him showed not only agony, but betrayal. Those cerulean eyes he adored were bloodshot and darkening with each passing second. However, there was no way he was going to let the blond die, never, not at the hands of _anyone_. At least, even on his own, the boy had a chance out there in the world, whereas in a prison cell, there was no other alternative. Death was all that awaited someone having been arrested by the Military Police. His own lip quivered as he blinked back tears, eyes stinging with pleas to find release. “I really, really am.”

The brunet felt arms grab him from behind, felt those large cuffs fit over his hands and wrists as his arms were wrenched behind his back and he was forced to lean forward, a hand in his short, greasy hair. A fog settled over his senses, a dull resignation falling over him. He felt so _tired_ , suddenly, as if the weight of the world was crushing him into the ground, and he was exhausted from trying to hold it all up.

“ _Eren_! _Mikasa_!” Armin screamed as he was released. He tried to run to them, but a different soldier knocked him out of the way. Blue eyes watched in horror as a pod slowly descended to Earth, and part of its wall slid away to reveal the dark insides, pulsing with little lights and buttons that he’d no idea their purposes. The blond stood there as his friends, his family, was herded inside, pushed and shoved around. He watched as a fist connected with Eren’s face, sending the brunet tumbling to the ground of the pod, just as the opening slid closed. Up, up, up went the pod, soon shooting off like a bullet out of sight.

_They’re gone._

Armin slowly sunk to his knees, deaf and blind to the chaos around him, to the blood smearing the streets, to the screams, gunshots, cries, people pleading for their lives, to the symphony of chaos playing through the air, conducted by the madness of humanity. _They’re gone, and I did nothing to save them. I did nothing. I was useless to them._

_Absolutely useless._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's chapter two! Sorry for the wait; I had it written up and finished a few days ago, and just now finished editing it. As I promised, I have a tumblr for the fic, now. You'll have to excuse the 2,000+ posts; it used to be a personal blog, but I never used it anymore and figured why make a whole new blog when I didn't need to? The URL is http://ourlasthopefic.tumblr.com/ ~~~! So if you have a chance, do follow! Like I said before, I'll take questions over there, as well as possibly adding content that won't be in the actual story, later on.
> 
> Without further ado, here's chapter two!

Armin laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling with dull eyes. He counted the cracks in the old, cement slab, tracing them as they branched from the walls inward. Holes, deep enough that he could see specks of light from the floor above him, dotted the expanse of grey like stars in the night sky, yet rather than radiating light, they stole light away, sunken in shadows. His oil lamp did little to illuminate the cold, dark room, and certainly offered no heat to his frozen body. It was always cold in his part of the city, never having once had the sun to warm everything up.

Drones had kept watch over the slums ever since the uprising, spewing meaningless words into the air, preaching that they were the ones at fault for the death and decay around them, that revolts were pointless. They demanded respect and _worship_ of the three kings, and reminded citizens that should anything like that happen ever again, they certainly wouldn’t show any further mercy. As if they had shown mercy to begin with.

With metallic words as his lullaby, the blond teen had laid in bed every day since his family had been brutally stolen from him. He wasn’t entirely sure who had lifted him off of the streets that day, after the screams and roars had long since come to an end, though he vaguely recalled whispered apologies and sweet nothings murmured into his ear as he was dragged along. It had been a rugged voice, shot from yelling for so long during the riot, but still, no matter how hard he thought on it, Armin couldn’t place it. He figured he would have had to ask around, whenever he got to it.

_If_ he ever got to it.

In the days he’d spent in bed, his stomach had not growled once. In fact, he’d leaned over the edge of the old, rusted frame into a nearby wastebin and lost whatever bile and acid had been sitting inside of him.. Only once had he bothered to drink a bit of dirty water, since it had been sitting on the table by his bed since a few nights before his world came to an end. Everything inside of him, as well as outside, seemed to have come to a shrieking halt when the lights of his life, his meaning for existence, left him behind.

They had begged for his freedom, pleaded for him to keep his life. But what life did he have without them? As much as he preached and boasted about living on his own terms, driven by the fact that he was simply alive, none of it was true. When they’d been having serious talks, and Eren would ask if Armin would be fine if anything happened to either of his dark haired friends, the blond would shrug and say that of course he’d be fine; he knew how to live alone.

The truth was, Armin had no idea how to live by himself.

He understood the mechanics, but his happiness relied on others. Not just anyone, but specifically the ones ripped from him. Losing them meant losing a bigger part of himself; a part he could never get back, no matter how much he kicked and screamed.

“Execution!” exclaimed a shrill, artificial voice, the whir of invisible propellers buzzing by Armin’s window. “Public execution!”

The words had only stirred the boy with memories, far away and hazy glances at scenes he’d glimpsed before. Screams of an orphaned child, the shouts of cruel officers, the cracking of bones and ripping of flesh at the hand of someone who was supposed to protect the public... It attempted to rush back in waves of agony, but Armin pushed it all down, closing his eyes and willing the memories away. He didn’t want to feel anymore. What was the point? Even his happy memories ached within him and he was just so tired of all the pain.

“At noon today, the public execution of Eren Yaeger and Mikasa Ackerman shall be held at the center square!”

A shock ran through that small body like none other before it. Armin felt ever frozen to his bed, like a stray, helpless leaf stuck to ice, his very breath stopping in his throat. While he had expected the worst, hearing those words aloud had unexpected reactions, and certainly he hadn’t thought they would be made a public spectacle; a reminder to never go against the almighty rule of the three kings.

“Noon today, the public execution shall take place!”

With the second reminder, Armin found his spell of stillness broken, and he was left fumbling and gasping as he tried to get to his feet. Everything around him seemed foreign; black dotted the edge of his vision and the world around him seemed on a grey scale. His tired form staggered to the door, hands meeting the rough wood of the wall as he tried to keep himself upright. He nearly fell headlong down the stairs as he went, catching sight of the old standing clock by the door Eren had spent weeks on repairing.

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes until he lost absolutely everything.

The outside air was far more brisk than within his tiny home, yet as each whip of razor like wind cut into exposed skin, Armin didn’t so much as flinch. A numbness had settled over him, not just over his body, but over his mind, as well. Barefeet made little sound against the dirtied cobble stone as he fell into a slow run, cool air burning his throat and stinging his nose.

“Did you hear?”

“A public execution...”

“I feel so sorry for them!”

“What’s that boy going to do now?”

“Hush, hush, he’s right there!”

Nameless face upon nameless face rushed by Armin as he went, all whispering and muttering as their eyes followed him in his awkward gait down the streets. It seemed everyone had him and his predicament on their lips, but how was he supposed to care? How was he supposed to feel upset by their pity, by their sneers, by anything they did, when everything was coming crashing down around him? Desperation made him feel raw, inside and out, cutting through that odd, foggy numbness with each step closer to the slum’s center square.

\---

Many people were already gathered, huddled together, facing a hastily built box of pine, perhaps an attempted dias, or an overturned, double coffin. One of the Military Police’s deployment pods hovered just behind it, mere inches from the ground, eerily silent. Its side was spread wide open, the officers and their prisoners having already spilled out of it. Overhead, more of those drones buzzed about, demanding people to remain calm and quiet. Some were fixed with cameras, intent on recording the whole bloody ordeal, either for legal purposes, or in order to show on an endless loop as a reminder as to what would happen if you fought someone, some _thing_ , far stronger than yourself.

With rough hands and rougher handling, Eren was forced up onto the makeshift dias, though he certainly didn’t fight them, not even when they slammed him down onto his knees. His hands were bound behind his back, and his ankles were strung together on a metal chain. The brunet simply hung his head, staring blankly at the whorls in the wood, tracing meaningless patterns. Ever since they’d captured him, he’d been as compliant as he had ever been in his entire life. It was hardly surprising, however, since he was still fighting.

In this pitiable way, Eren was fighting for Armin’s life.

Hourly reminders were shot at him during his imprisonment, sometimes even more frequently than that. The soldiers guarding him in his dank and cold cell constantly spewed how they knew the blond boy’s identity, how they could easily find him and kill him on the spot if Eren tried anything. They told him they’d do the same to Mikasa, and if he still fought, then they’d find anyone else who ever even just passed him by on the street and gut them for the world to see.

So, the brunet didn’t mind bowing his head to them, or letting them beat him until his body was broken, as they seemed intent on doing. He was sure that, by now, his face was completely unrecognizable, with the way it was swollen and stained with red, blue, and purple. His cheekbones, nose, and jaw were all broken, basically smashed into irreparable bits. His pain was nothing in comparison to Armin’s life, though. No matter the price he was forced to pay, he would have given it without remorse, every time.

An officer stood beside him, another behind him. The one to his side had his arms folded properly behind his back, his chin raised in the air, face grim. He was speaking to the onlookers. “Eren Yaeger has been tried and found guilty of all counts against him,” the soldier was saying. All lies, seeing as Eren hadn’t seen a single judge or jury during his stay in the dungeons. “The proper sentence given to him is death. As a reminder to those who would attempt to rise up again against our glorious kings, he has been sentenced to be publicly executed. Your attendance is mandatory.”

Just as Eren was wondering if Armin was somewhere in that throng of people, sobbing or agonized to stillness, a hellish wind kicked up, people crying out and moving away from its source. A flood of blue swept through the square, dancing between bodies and curling around robots. Not quite a light, yet not any other substance Eren was familiar with, he watched through swollen eyes as it slid closer and closer to him, snaking and cutting through the air before brushing against his burning body, leaving a cool, comforting warmth in its wake. It felt like nothing he could describe in any way that made sense; a mother’s touch, a spring day, the embrace of a lover, the kiss of summer sun...

Lifting his head higher, his gaze followed hazy blue tendrils to their source, passing over panicked and concerned faces, even faces of absolute contentment and eyes filled with tears, straight to a boy of blond hair and ethereal cerulean eyes.

_Armin?_

\---

Armin finally slowed as he came to the edge of a crowd, though it was so tightly packed together, he wondered if he could have even penetrated it. He wasn’t entirely sure what drew him forward, what made him dive headlong into a sea of people, pushing and fighting his way towards the front, but whatever it was left him feeling breathless and light headed. Everything seemed dreamlike; it was so unreal that he was fighting to see the execution of the only people who ever mattered to him, like a nightmare just before waking.

“Eren Yaeger has been tried and found guilty of all counts against him.”

The words rung through the air like the echo of a gong, vibrating through the people packed tightly around him. Mouths were opened in silent ohs, others whispered unintelligibly to the people beside them. Nothing made sense. Tried? Found guilty? Of what charges? Attempting to protect the people he loved more than anything else in the world?

Something was building up inside of Armin; he felt as if he was going to be sick all over the ground. His head ached and his vision slipped; the pressure inside of him was ready to burst, pulling him apart in every direction. In mere seconds, the axe would be brought down, and Eren’s head would roll. There were many other, easier ways to end a life, but the government knew that in order to make it real, in order to show power and instill absolute fear, only those acts of true cruelness, of true gore, would work.

The best way to teach discipline was through pain.

A lifetime of memories washed over Armin, stilling him, silencing the noise around him. He felt as if he plunged into the crystalline waters of the river, as he often did as a child, only able to hear the water bubbling gently in his ears. What he saw, rather than unwashed bodies and grime covered streets was Eren’s face, as it had been years ago, unmarred by the world’s cruelness. A toothy grin, with gaps dotted throughout as he lost his baby teeth, a bruised cheek as he fought off playground bullies, tear stained skin as he sobbed.

_I want to protect him._

_I want to save him._

Armin lifted his head, the pressure at its peak, his heart a rolling drum. Every part of him seemed to relax, untwisting all the tightened muscles and soothing away the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt warm, yet cold at the same time. Happy and sad, mad and calm. A peace he never knew existed fell over him right then, yet at the same time, it was an overwhelming anxiety.

_I_ will _save him._

The pressure burst.

\---

Silently, Eren watched that form step down the path that cut through the crowd, a silence having fallen over each and every person. They all simply watched the boy who glowed; even the Military Police were stunned to stillness. The brunet shifted forward, slightly, despite the deep ache radiating from the very core of his body. There was something about that light, something that was not only wholly peaceful, but absolutely despairing, like staring at the two different sides of a coin at the same time.

As Armin broke from the sea of people, coming into the small space between the group of onlookers and the dias, one of the officers seemed to come to his senses. Pulling a sword from his belt (a savage weapon, yet one of the best to instill fear, to remind everyone he had the power to take life away as he saw fit), he aimed the blade at the young blond, fluffing up with a loud shout. “Don’t take a step closer! A-Any further action, and I’ll be forced to execute you on the spot!”

Eren watched with a dry throat as his childhood friend slowly lifted his head, those cerulean eyes he so adored now mirrors of glowing sky. There was no hint of that innocent, kindhearted boy left in shimmering seas. Somehow, it seemed as if Armin wasn’t even occupying his own body anymore; some other force had taken over, entirely.

The soldier shook under the gaze, dancing back in panic once he realized lazy blue tendrils snaked around him, prodding at his sides, sliding against his legs. He dropped his sword, waving his hands as if to knock the ethereal glow away, but as soon as his skin slid over the haze, he froze, a calmness overtaking him. Slowly, the man simply sat down, hanging his head.

Turning teal eyes back to the body of someone he considered his family, Eren attempted some call of Armin’s name, only able to utter a sound like, “Ahhin?” His jaw ached terribly at the attempt, bringing tears to his eyes which he absolutely refused to shed. His blurry gaze followed the boy as the blond made his way up onto the dais, standing just before the brunet, staring down at him. Slowly, as if moving through water, Armin knelt, eye level with the other.

Everything, even time itself, seemed to come to a standstill as Eren stared at the boy he knew almost better than he knew himself. The face was the same; the shape of his jaw, the roundness of his eyes and cheeks, the slim structure of his shoulders... Each piece told the brunet that he was truly staring at the boy he’d grown up with, gazing at the person he’d spent countless nights comforting and endless days  loving. But somehow, in a way even unknown to the injured prisoner, he knew the person before him was not Armin, not even in the slightest. The answers to all the world’s questions, and yet a void of absolutely nothing at all hung in pale blue expanses where eyes should have been.

No, before Eren certainly was not Armin. A being far older than the both of them, far older than even the Earth itself, dwelled within the young boy’s body, emanating hope and despair, greatness and weakness, life and death. Each part of the world shone within the small shell of flesh and bone, glowing beneath his skin and seeping from his pores. The sight alone was enough to bring tears forth from the deepest reaches of a person’s soul. To feel it, to experience it so close, was almost enough to break Eren into tiny, shattered pieces.

Slowly, Armin’s arms raised, as if each small movement was weighted down by unseen chains. Eren felt the brush of smooth palms over his cheeks, a little surprised; he remembered the blond having rough hands, from years of hard work. That wasn’t the only surprising thing; the touch didn’t hurt, not even in the least bit. In fact, it felt _good_. It felt as if those hands were pulling the ache right from his bones, leaving a dull yet sharp warmth in its place. An odd pressure pulled at his jaw, his cheeks, and his nose, to all parts of his body that had been broken beneath rough soles and cruel knuckles. The realization hit him with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs.

Eren’s bones were reforming, healing to perfection.

“ _I will save you_ ,” Armin whispered in a voice unlike his own, too deep and too cold, leaning closer to Eren until their foreheads touched, pulling forth a deep sob from the young brunet. He could hear others, though it was as if they were miles and miles away; strangers in the crowd gasped or cried, just as he was. With a glance to the side, he watched as people fell to their knees, some looking as if they were in prayer.

Teal eyes watched as a girl, as beautiful as the day was bright, stood up from her wheelchair, and the brunette beside her fell in tears, gripping to the blonde’s skirts. An old man dropped his cane, standing perfectly fine on his own. A woman removed the bandages from over her eye, touching just below it as she looked around, as if in absolute wonder.

“Armin...” Eren breathed, his shoulders shuddering a moment before falling lax, eyelids fluttering closed. Was this all his friend’s doing? Was it truly possible that Armin held such a power? But how? And since when? Just what in the world was going on?

He started, however, as hands fell from his face, and the touch of foreheads slipping away. Opening his eyes to the world again, Eren watched as Armin fell to his side, the unnerving color fading from his eyes, the tendrils of hazy blue racing back into his body. A different sort of ache welled up in the brunet as the younger hit the ground, as if something had been torn right from the core of his body, a part of him now lost to the winds.

“Armin!” he cried, leaning over, unable to lift the boy with his hands bound the way they were. “Armin! Armin, _please_!” Gently, he nudged the blond with his knee, feeling ice wash over him at the lack of a response. “Armin!”

“Eren, is he alright?!” a voice from his right called, heavy footsteps shaking the pine dais before a body fell to its knees beside him. He didn’t need to look to know the person was Mikasa, though he turned his head to her all the same.

“I-I don’t know! He--!” However, the brunet froze to his very core as he met her eyes, his words dying in his throat. _Her eyes_. How many years had it been since he’d seen those wonderfully, achingly beautiful dark hues? There was no scar from the blade, no milkiness of blind orbs. They were absolutely healthy, the pupils dilating as she looked around, absolutely focused. “Your-... Mikasa, your _eyes_...”

The raven haired girl nodded as she pursed her lips into a thin line. “But there’s no time for that now,” she pointed out in a heavy tone, lifting her gaze as men in uniforms cautiously neared them, weapons in hand.

“What the hell was that?” one officer asked, his voice tight and all but a whisper. “What the _hell_ did he do?!”

Eren gritted his teeth, quickly assessing the situation with ease. It didn’t take a genius to understand the soldiers were terrified. It was their duty to protect (well, it was _supposed_ to be), but how were they supposed to fight against something like _that_? Whatever _that_ had been; the brunet still had no words to describe just what he had just witnessed.

“Answer me!” the soldier from before cried, raising his gun and taking aim. Not at either bound prisoner, but at the boy helplessly unaware of the world around him. Eren did his best to lean over Armin, protectively, but he knew if the officer really wanted to dispatch his friend, there was nothing he would have been able to do.

“Don’t you hurt him!”

All eyes turned to the source of the cry. The girl from the wheelchair, still standing on her own two feet, had stepped apart from the crowd, delicate hands balled into fists at her sides, sapphire eyes tight with a glare. “Don’t you lay one hand on him!” she cried, her high pitched voice carrying easily in the relative silence.

“Tha-That’s right!” another person from the crowd cried, stepping forward, pulling off the bandages from his arm. “It’s thanks to him I’m healed! I don’t know how, but I know he did it! Don’t you _dare_ hurt him!”

More and more people joined in, claiming that they owed everything to him, to the boy who laid motionless on the dais. They surged forward, their shouts and cries unnerving the Military Police, who each held their weapons tightly, looking around confused as if they weren’t sure if they really should have taken action or not. Eren felt a chill tickle at his spine as he felt the tension grow into something almost tangible. If things got ugly, there was no way he could have gotten Armin out of there, or even fought to protect him, not bound the way he was. Mikasa didn’t have a chance, either, seeing as she was in the same boat as the brunet.

As if sensing the danger, one of the drones that had simply been fluttering about the entire time descended between the civilians and the soldiers. It wasn’t the standard issue white, either, but a bright sapphire, noting its significance. With a loud buzz, the top of it opened up, a large speaker unfolding and rising high above it. “Do not harm that boy, nor his companions,” a voice boomed from the robot, its tone ever commanding. Eren flinched at the sound, squinting as he tried to get a better look at the machine. On its front, two overlapping wings were painted. “Escort them to the castle, immediately.”

“Y-Yes, my king!” the soldier that had aimed his gun at Armin exclaimed, saluting even though he was facing a robot and not an actual person. He hastily made his way over to the three, waving over a couple of other soldiers as he did so. “C’mon, get up,” he hissed, pulling Eren away from the blond.

“Let go of me!” the brunet cried, fighting against the tight grip on his arms. “Don’t you fucking touch him; I’ll kill you! Touch him and you’re _dead_!”

“ _Eren_ ,” Mikasa called, her tone heavy, her brows furrowed deeply. “Knock it off. Do you realize who’s voice that was?”

“Why the hell should I care?” the teal eyed teen snapped.

“It was the _Sapphire King_ ,” the girl pressed, easily complying with the soldier who helped her to her feet. “He said not to hurt us, so their hands are tied. Just stop and think a moment. It’s better than staying here and another riot breaking out, right? This time, we can’t protect him.” She shot her gaze to Armin, who was slowly lifted up onto a flimsy looking stretcher by two officers, who proceeded to carry it to the deployment pod. “No matter how hard we would try.”

Though he let out a frustrated sound, Eren relaxed enough to allow himself to be escorted along, fixating his heated gaze on the unconscious form of the boy he had thought he knew so well. His head was spinning, too many thoughts reeling in his mind as he tried to make sense of everything that had transpired. First, Armin went godlike, healing not only the brunet, but everyone in the vicinity, then, they were ordered to the castle. What was going to happen next? Was Armin going to be crowned as a new king, or prince, or perhaps the wall would come alive and walk away on its own? Any number of fantastical, ridiculous things could have been in store for the unsuspecting three.

His face softened as his gaze drifted over Armin’s face. The child looked uneasy, thick brows pulled down and a light sheen of sweat laminated his face. He only hoped that whatever came next, Armin would be safe.

Safe and _alive_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait. ;; This chapter took forever to write, it was like pulling teeth. Not much action, but definitely a lot of information.
> 
> Only the first few pages of the fic were actually beta'd, so I apologize if you find a few mistakes, or if some of the sentences either read funny, or are bland. I'll make sure to make the next chapter follow the quality of the first two. uwu

Muffled voices flooded Armin’s ears as his eyes saw only an expanse of black before him. He felt like he was caught in a heavy tide, being pulled out further and further into the ocean as water closed over his head, dulling his world. Ice coursed through his veins and his heart thumped painfully in his chest; everything hurt and the blond had absolutely no clue as to why. Not that he could even think such a coherent thought in the first place. The boy was simply floating, endlessly, cursed to suffer through an eternity of nothingness.

That was, until a touch to his cheek startled the numbness away; a smooth palm grabbed on tight and pulled him out of the dark depths of the ocean. The closer to the surface he got, the warmer his body became, though the ache followed after him. Soon enough, his head was cresting the surface and breath filled his lungs, the world turning from frigid black to a warm swirl of reds.

Cerulean orbs fluttered open, at first only able to register blurred blotches of colors, tan, white, and other things that melted into one another that he’d no name for. Letting his lids fall closed once again, the blond focused on the warmth on his cheek, using it as a means to drag himself into full consciousness. He didn’t remember anyone with such a soft hand and upon realizing that, he chased the thought, letting it slowly bring his mind to more focused and complex thoughts. Armin wondered just who the hand belonged to as what he assumed to be a thumb traced the line of his cheekbone, gently, with an incredible fondness.

“Armin? Hey, are you awake now?”

The voice was the thing that brought Armin over the edge from sleeping to waking, pulling his eyes open once again. This time, he was able to force them to focus, once blurred colors sharpening into true shapes and forms. Above him, a face he knew all too well hovered over his own, lips splitting to reveal white teeth in a grin. Teal eyes crinkled at the edges in joy. “Your breath stinks,” was the first thing out of the blond’s mouth as he scrunched his nose, surprised by the weakness of his own voice.

“Aha, it’s nothing you’re not already used to,” Eren hummed, though he did lean back, even if he knew that the blond didn’t mean anything offensive by it. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Armin muttered before forcing himself to sit up, to get a better idea of where he was. After all, the usual stink that hung over the slums wasn’t there, and it was surely too bright. He found himself lying on a deep, navy blue couch, so soft to the touch that it was hardly fair it wasn’t made into a bed. Where he, the couch, and Eren resided was a room so huge, it made him feel a little intimidated. It certainly was bigger than his room back home, and definitely better furnished.

In front of the couch, behind where Eren was crouching, was a small coffee table, done in a pale white, beautiful, swirling patterns carved into its legs, it’s top all made of sparkling glass. There was a small, lace cloth on it, to protect the glass from the porcelain tea set atop it. It took the blond a moment to realize they were in a receiving room; all the furniture there was meant for someone to sit on (several chairs, another couch, with footstools dotted throughout, standing at the ready) or to set their belongings on (end tables and stands, with a couple other coffee tables). To make the place seem more homely instead of museum like, there was even a large fireplace on one of the walls, though it seemed as if it had never been used.

Behind him, the wall that stood proudly was made entirely of glass, staring out over the sky and flat land, dotted with green and yellow grasses. The sight alone was almost enough to steal Armin’s breath from his lungs as he took in splashes of white against an expanse of bright blue. When was the last time he had seen the sky? Or even the sun? He wasn’t aware of his skittering heartbeat until he turned away, wide eyes settling on the brunet sitting on the floor.

“Eren, where _are_ we?” the fair haired boy breathed, hands shaking as he placed them firmly in his lap, nerves having dried his throat and lips.

“The castle,” the brunet replied, though in such a tone with such weight that made it sound like a death sentence rather than a location. “After you passed out, the MPs were ordered to bring us here.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if having swallowed something sour.

“But... _why_?” Armin pressed, leaning forward a little. “Eren, I don’t know what’s going on, I--...” The blond shook his head. No words came to him as he attempted to explain, though what exactly he was supposed to explain, he wasn’t entirely sure. “I don’t remember anything...”

“What do you mean?” the brunet frowned, lifting himself up onto his knees, brows furrowed. “What don’t you remember, exactly?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t remember what exactly I don’t remember,” Armin groaned, shoulders slumping. “I remember lying in bed, then hearing the announcement of your exe--... _execution_...” Such a simple word, made of simple letters, fell like a rock from his mouth, forcing with it all the heartache the boy wanted to forget, forever. “U-Um, then I was running to the square, and I remember getting there, but... After that, it all sort of... gets fuzzy.”

“You don’t remember what you did?” the older teen watched his friend for a long moment, as if he was attempting to assess if Armin was lying or not, but then again, why would the blond? No matter how unbelievable it was that someone could forget such a thing, he knew whenever the younger would lie; Armin was a terrible fibber when it came right down to it.

Perhaps it wasn’t so unbelievable. Teal eyes had clearly seen someone else having taken residence within the small body. Was it really true that Armin had been ejected from his own skin to make room for something else?

“Take a moment to try and remember,” Eren advised, taking Armin’s hands in his own. “You’re probably going to be questioned; it might look bad if you just say you don’t know anything...”

Armin nodded, staring down at their joined hands. Again, he noticed just how soft Eren’s palms were. Idly, he turned the other’s hands over, staring down at the expanses of tan skin. A lifetime of hard work should have shown bright and clear on the brunet’s hands, however not a single nick or scratch was to be seen. There were no old scars or even patches of dry skin. The blond furrowed thick brows, rubbing his thumbs over soft flesh.

‘ _I_ will _save him._ ’

The boy’s head snapped up fast enough to startle Eren, who looked at the other with wide eyes. “Armin?” he called, though the blond didn’t reply. He watched as Armin looked past him, to somewhere the brunet had no chance of ever seeing.

“I... I remember it was... it was cold, but warm, at the same time,” Armin began, cerulean hues focusing on his childhood friend. “And I was terrified, but really happy, and totally at peace, but I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside... Ah, it’s so hard to remember, but... There was blue. I’m not sure... I mean, it was like light, you know? But... solid. A-And I remember you face, oh _god_ , your face!” He held a hand over his mouth, vision swimming as his eyes filled. In his mind’s eye, there the image was, clearer than anything else he could bring back. He’d known it was Eren, but just barely. The face he’d come to love so dearly was beaten purple and black, featureless as bones had been shattered and skin had swollen double the size it was supposed to be. Dried blood had formed trailing designs in the crevices between bumps and knots.

“Hey, hey, Armin, breathe,” Eren begged, reaching up to place a hand on either side of the boy’s face, rubbing at his cheeks to focus the other’s attention on himself. He supposed he had to have looked horrifying for Armin to have shown him such an expression like that. “Look, I’m okay now, right?” He grabbed the blond’s hand from over pale lips, pressing it to his own cheek, tracing small fingers over his chin, nose, and forehead. “Nothing’s broken, see? You fixed me. Every last bit of me, you fixed.”

“I don’t know... I did?” Armin whispered, brushing a thumb over a bushy eyebrow. He remembered seeing that beaten face through a haze of blue, and then possibly watching it reform, but that part almost hurt to try and think of. If he prodded too much at the memory, his head ached in protest, as if the images were meant to be kept under lock and key, a secret even from himself.

“You did,” Eren affirmed, nodding his head, as if the bobbing movement made his words more real, more tangible. “Though, don’t ask me how, I have no idea.” He lifted his eyes, then, over the back of the navy couch, catching sight of movement beyond. A smile tugged lightly at the corners of his lips as he got to his feet. “Took you long enough.”

“It’s not my fault; this place is a maze,” came the response, colored in a familiar bored tone. Armin pushed himself further up so he could spin around and look over the edge of the couch, following the form that crossed the room.

Before he even could call the raven’s name in greeting, his chest tightened, mind coming to a crashing, screeching halt. “ _Mikasa_ …” he gasped, as if something had a grip around his lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe.

Dark eyes crinkled at the edges as the woman’s mouth curled into a smile, lighting up her entire face. She seemed a little shy, oddly enough, with the way she gave a small, half-wave, wriggling her fingers, even having a small blush staining her cheeks a faint pink. “Hey, Armin. I’m glad you’re finally awake; Eren was starting to drive me crazy with his incessant worrying.”

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad!” Eren cried in his own defense. “Besides, you were worried too. It’s not a bad thing!”

“No, but you asking me every five seconds if I think he’s going to wake up is kind of annoying.”

Armin moved to stand from the couch, though found his legs not exactly agreeing with him, leaving him flopping back onto the overly comfortable cushions, drawing worried glances to him. His hands were shaking and his mouth dry, completely unable of tearing his eyes away from the only female in the room. “I… I fixed your eyes…?” he breathed, feeling as if he could hardly get a proper amount of air into his lungs.

“You did,” Mikasa confirmed with a soft sigh, moving to sit beside him, taking his hands in hers. She stared at them for a long moment, stroking fingers over Armin’s own, gently, brushing her thumbs against his inner wrists. “You gave me back my eyesight. Don’t ask me how, but you did. You know, the first thing I saw was you, too.”

Whatever noise bubbled up out of the blond was broken and blubbering before he pressed his forehead to the raven’s shoulder, whimpering softly. He felt a hand on the back of his head, stroking the length of his hair over and over again.

Eren had been about to say something, until his eyes were drawn back beyond the couch once again, to the only door leading into the room. “Looks like our celebration is being cut early,” he mumbled only loud enough for the two by him to hear as narrowed teal eyes watched intently as a group of strangers entered the once peaceful room. He noticed the tension in the air instantly, despite the more friendly faces of some of the unknown people.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” a deep, kind yet commanding voice greeted as the owner made his way around to face the occupants of the couch, though his steely blue eyes didn’t even glance over the two with dark hair. No, his gaze was fixated solely on Armin. “We were worried there, for a little, that you had sustained some form of internal damage after your little… _display_.”

Armin pursed his lips into a thin line as he felt his body come alive with nerves, jumping and jittering against his will. He knew that angular, strong face, that blond hair cropped short and kept eerily tidy, and those cold, hard eyes, like ice having covered the very sky itself. The man’s attire only proved as further confirmation to his identity; with immaculate, expensive fabrics, an emblem of sapphire, and a crown upon his head with jewels after his title nestled gently within brilliant gold, there was really no one else who it could have been.

Before him stood the Sapphire King, one of his country’s rulers. The man was possibly the most terrifying out of the three, in the young blond’s opinion; the king was known for being a brilliant tactician, and it was always a wonder if the face he was showing was true, or just a farce in order to get whatever he wanted.

“I feel fine… _sir_.” How was one supposed to address a king? The worst thing was it wasn’t just the Sapphire King in front of him. On either side of the blond haired man stood the two other kings, one with a rather scary expression.

On his left, the Emerald King, a man of frowns and seriousness, with a permanent case of dark whiskers and bruises under slate grey eyes, stood stiffly. He was dressed just like the Sapphire King, except with the color scheme his name suggested.

On the elder blond’s right stood a man with no hair atop his head, a bushy grey mustache tickling his upper lip. He was far more relaxed than either of the other rulers, a flask with a decorative rose design balanced in weathered fingers. His face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual smile, his warm skin tone combined with all the red of his attire making him appear as a summer day would. Enjoyable, approachable, kind and loving – such was the nature of the Ruby King. Well, at least, such was his surface nature.

The Sapphire King’s lips thinned with a smile, making his already tragically handsome face pass beyond the world of natural beauty into something hypnotic. “I’m glad to hear that. Well, I believe we should explain your presence here then, shouldn’t we?”

Armin swallowed thickly, hands fisted in his lap. “I believe it’s a little obvious as to why I’m here,” he replied, deciding to drop formalities, no matter the consequence. The situation didn’t seem like it needed titles or bowing heads.

The Ruby King openly snorted. “My, such a straightforward reply,” he chuckled, glancing to the blond beside him, golden eyes crinkling at the edges. “You might have your hands full with this one, Erwin.”

“Please,” Erwin bowed his head, lightly, as if begging his colleague to keep the jokes out of their conversation. He then looked to the two others that had entered the room with them, one a very friendly looking brunette with her hair done back in a pony tail, a set of glasses perched on her nose over brown eyes, the other almost terrifying with his scowl, short, black undercut, and steel colored eyes. “Hanji, would you?” he prompted the woman.

“Yes!” the brunette chirped, stepping forward like a child called upon by a teacher seeking an answer. With wild gestures, she greeted Armin, “Hello, there, Armin! I’m Hanji Zoe! But please, don’t be like this old fuddy-duddy and just call me Zoe, okay?” Her grin was wide enough that the young blond almost feared it would split her face in two, perhaps her whole head. A gruesome thought indeed.

“So, okay, getting onto why you’re actually here,” Zoe continued, as if nothing was amiss with her overpowering attitude. “To begin with, I’m going to tell you a little story. A long, long, ridiculously long time ago, back when this land was _full_ of power, a seer made a prediction. And by power, I mean this lost art called Ektavma. I guess you’d have to first understand what Ektavma is…”

“Zoe. Pick a topic and go from there; don’t jump around and confuse the hell out of everyone,” the man with the undercut snapped, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his eyes narrowed further.

Zoe laughed. “Yeah, that’d probably be a better idea. Thanks, Levi! So helpful, really,” she chirped, sparing him but a glance before turning her excited gaze back to the group of teens. “Ektavma is an energy that finds its source in the Earth. Essentially, it’s the Earth’s _soul_. Back when it was still abundant in our lands, even a child could manipulate its powers and perform the kind of miracles you did, Armin. It was our Earth’s gift to us; she blessed us from birth and shared with us her very life, until we got too greedy and began to seep that life away from her. Now, she’s the near lifeless rock you see today.

“But before she became that way, a very prominent seer, who only gave predictions to the line of royalty, foresaw a very terrible event,” she went on, slowly getting closer and closer to the sitting blond in her excitement, but a grave expression tugged at her smile and darkened her once bright eyes. The seriousness of the situation was painfully evident. “He saw the days of the lands’ barrenness. He spoke of an era without the Earth’s gift to man, which we currently live in. That seer also saw a day when one person would be blessed once again, but only that one specific person. Never did he give a name or physical description. All he said was many, many people would be touched by this one person’s gift in a show of great compassion and sorrow.

“Once that person’s powers awoke, the seer foresaw a change in the world. As we are now, humans are _not_ supposed to be blessed by the Earth. Like I said before, we literally sucked her soul out of her with pure greed; people made machines in order to extract the Ektavma from the soil. So, in turn, she cursed us for that very greed, taking away every last drop of Ektavma from us and giving us a cold, barren land to live on.

“But, here you are, as he said. A person with the powers of the Earth; a child who can move mountains and breathe life into dead lungs. Such in our reality is abnormal, just like if suddenly an extinct animal came back into being. Naturally, there’s going to be some force to push back and try to fix the imbalance, try to put everything back to normal.

“That begins the second part of his prediction: The coming of the Titans.” Zoe straightened her glasses, standing upright from her once slightly leaning position, her eyes turning to the glass wall beyond the navy couch. “ _The skies will bleed and the clouds will cry, endlessly. Sunlight shall not touch the soil nor the faces of those who look to it for warmth, and in the distance, a rumbling will begin_ ,” she recited in a quiet voice. “ _The rumbling will grow, and grow; it will consume everything and deafen a land of peace. Then, without fail, giants shall rise from the grounds and lay waste to everything in their paths. They shall be called Titans, and they shall not stop until every last human is gone._ ”

Her words faded with an echo as she finished reciting, leaving an empty yet heavy feel in the air. Armin felt as if something was constricting his lungs, wrapping around his chest tightly and only getting tighter, like a rope pulled taught. Something like that wasn’t possible, right? It was all fiction, just some story passed down from generation to generation. Then again, what he had done, though he remembered little, had been impossible, as well. Cerulean hues turned to Eren, remembering that broken and bloodied face, then to Mikasa and to eyes he hadn’t seen in a number of years.

Maybe fairy tales were more likely to be true than anyone could have ever guessed.

The one to break the silence was Erwin, the Sapphire King, with a soft sigh. “A scary story, no?” he asked, relaxing his stiff posture a little. “Until today, I had thought it was merely a folktale. In fact, I don’t think anyone in their right mind ever believed a word of it.” He glanced first to the Ruby King, then to the Emerald. “But it is quite evident that words of a previously thought madman are more real than any of us could have imagined.”

“So… Soon, humanity will face extinction,” Armin mumbled, though it wasn’t a question. No one had mentioned what his role in the prophecy was, other than to be the catalyst of the end of the world as they knew it. Was his existence merely one of destruction? Was he born only to lead the people he loved into utter chaos and, ultimately, a cruel and painful death?

“Yes, it does seem that way,” The Ruby King hummed, idly tapping the flask in his hand. “However, I do believe there is a part of that old tale that you forgot to mention, Miss Zoe.”

“I didn’t forget,” Zoe assured the man with a grin, though none of her previous excitement showed through. She turned her deep, brown gaze back to Armin, a look of sympathy crossing her features. “According to the seer, if the blessed person so chose to stand up and fight, then that person had the powers to protect humanity. He never gave any details, or really explained himself beyond that. All he said was that when the time came, and if the will was there, the one chosen by the Earth would bring an age of Gold.”

“Age of Gold?” Armin was almost startled by Eren’s words, since the brunet had been so quiet the entire time. Then again, he didn’t really expect anyone to have much to say in response to something so heavy plopped onto their lap in such a short amount of time. “What the he--… heck is that supposed to mean?” he censored himself, poorly.

Zoe snickered, eyes beginning to light up once again. “Well, your guess is as good as mine,” she hummed. “No one knows.”

“So all of this comes down to one question,” the Emerald King spoke up, his gruff voice a startling contrast to the previous ones. “Will you, or will you not, fight for humanity?” He stared down Armin as if he was sentencing the child to death, just _daring_ the blond to refuse, which had the boy quite rightfully shaking. If one of the kings decided he was ‘no good’, then his death was just as easily assured as the sun would rise in the morning.

“Now, Nile,” Erwin soothed, “no need to scare the child. The choice is entirely up to him. After all, it’s noted quite clearly that he _must_ make the choice _willingly_. If he does not have the will to fight, then there is nothing we can do.”

“So you’re asking me to leave such a decision to a child?” Nile snapped.

“Exactly,” Erwin sighed, as if he had argued in such a manner with his fellow king a number of times. “You see--”

“I’ll do it.”

All eyes turned to the blond, one particular set of teal burning with worry. “What are you saying?” Eren pressed, voice rising in volume. “Armin, do you _realize_ what you’re agreeing to? You could _die_!”

“And if I don’t, then _you’ll_ die!” Armin cried, finally getting to his feet. He took a shuddering breath. “If I don’t, _everyone_ will die,” he almost whispered, shoulders tight and hands balled into fists at his sides. “If I was going to let you die, then I wouldn’t have stopped that execution. I’m not about to let you lose your life at all, let alone in a _worse_ way.” Puffing himself up, the blond focused on the Sapphire King, feeling as if that was the one ruler really truly on his side, even if only to reach a certain goal. “I’ll do it. Don’t ask me how I’m going to do it, or what exactly I’m going to do, because I literally have no idea. But if I need to fight to keep the people I love alive, then I’ll do it.” He blinked several times, willing away the burning in his eyes as he lifted a hand to his face, a shuddering breath shaking his shoulders. “God, I’ll do it…”

“Armin…” With absolutely no hesitation, Eren reached out, pulling the small body close to his own, his grip tight. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the blond was absolutely terrified. Hell, it would only take a person with any sense to realize that. It killed the brunet inside to know there was nothing he could do. If anything Armin was even more headstrong than Eren, especially when it came to keeping those he cared for safe. Never had the younger been able to protect either the brunet or Mikasa, and now he was handed the perfect opportunity on a silver platter. No, perhaps the platter was made of glowing blue light. Either way, it was one decision that Eren would never be able to overturn.

“You’re very brave,” Erwin praised, his words carrying a weight too great to measure. With purpose, he dragged his gaze over to the raven haired male, dubbed ‘Levi’ by Zoe. “You know your job, I assume?” he asked, raising a thick, dark brow.

“Of course; I’m not slow,” Levi snuffed, rolling his eyes in a manner only a teenager should have been able to pull off. “Oi, brats. As touching as this… _moment_ is, I’m going to have to cut it short,” he snapped, stepping toward the trio with a huff, glaring as Eren gave him quite the challenging look. “As of now, you’re under my care, as unfortunate as that is, and since that’s the case, you all are going to spend the next hour, or however long it takes, taking a goddamn _bath_.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste, making his already narrow eyes seem slitted further. “You all stink like death and you’re disgusting to look at.”

Eren growled in the back of his throat. “You’re not that easy on the eyes, either, pops,” he huffed, feeling only slightly intimidated by the killing gaze he was rewarded with.

Zoe let out a long, loud laugh. “Pops! Oh, that’s precious!” she chirped, loudly, before all but dancing over, draping her arms over both Armin and Eren, forcing Mikasa over as well and hugging onto the three of them, tightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be helping to keep you guys safe and sound, too!”

Armin choked, softly, as he was squeezed. Slowly, his gaze turned to the wall of glass and beyond, to the skies of powder blue. How long would it take for them to turn dark? How long until the ground rumbled endlessly and the clouds spilled all that they could carry?

How long until he had to face humanity’s greatest threat, alone?


End file.
